Chapter 47. The Wind Blows In (2)
Pah-pah-pah-pang!
Fists brimming with power struck repeatedly into empty air.
This was no ordinary martial arts practice. Each fist carried formidable internal energy, making them as lethal as any weapon. These were the techniques of a peak master - strikes capable of piercing logs and shattering boulders with a single blow.
Sweat poured down his face, yet Yeon Hojeong's merciless training never ceased. His punching speed only increased as time passed, as if gaining momentum.
Tiiing!
After prolonged fist training, Yeon Hojeong hooked a fallen spear with his foot and flicked it upward.
He gripped the weapon in one fluid motion and swung it with terrifying force.
Whooosh-whooosh-whooosh!
The long spear spat flames.
Though spears are heavy polearms where delivering powerful strikes comes easily, chaining fluid techniques proves difficult.
Yet Yeon Hojeong's spear arts defied convention. Explosive strikes rained down in endless succession, the intervals between attacks vanishingly narrow.
After relentless drilling, he suddenly reversed his grip and hurled the spear.
Thwuuunk!
The weapon pierced through a thick log before embedding itself in the earth.
A display of monstrous power.
"Huff... huff..."
His breathing lay in tatters from the extreme exertion. A deep blue aura shimmered around Yeon Hojeong's gasping form.
Despite using internal energy to facilitate oxygen intake, the speed of his recovery defied reason - his ragged breaths stabilizing within moments.
"Whew."
As Yeon Hojeong collapsed onto the flat training ground, a weighty voice reached him:
"Finished training?"
He looked up to see his father standing in the distance, hands clasped behind his back.
"You came?"
"This resembles venting frustration more than cultivation."
"......"
"Restoring disrupted breathing so quickly is profoundly difficult. It seems extreme physical training yields benefits."
"I suppose."
The moonlit night draped them in silver. Yeonwi settled beside his son under the luminous glow.
"You've grown into a proper master now. No shame in bearing the title of peak master."
"Thank you."
The words lacked sincerity - how could he rejoice when an apocalyptic future loomed?
Yet pure astonishment colored Yeonwi's appraisal of his son's prowess.
At nineteen summers, Yeon Hojeong had surpassed even the commander of their family's martial division. An incomprehensible growth rate, regardless of learning elite techniques. Would any contemporary from the Seven Great Families' younger generation match this?
Even among the Nine Sects - excluding Shaolin, Wudang, and Huashan - such talent would be rare. Considering his strength half a year prior, this growth pace might be unprecedented in martial history.
Yet the achiever remained unsatisfied, his demeanor screaming of miles yet to travel.
He knew his accomplishments were extraordinary. Yet they weren't enough.
Yeonwi's tone turned casual:
"Something troubles you?"
Yeon Hojeong couldn't answer.
He could've dismissed it as routine training. But he refused to lie about his feelings.
"Excessive."
"Sir?"
"Your killing intent."
Yeon Hojeong's eyes flickered.
"You sensed it?"
"Could I call myself Family Head otherwise?"
The youth constantly restrained his murderous aura. Though leaks occurred, he never let it run rampant.
But Yeonwi was Yeonwi. The distance between family quarters and training grounds meant nothing - his energy sensitivity transcended mortal limits.
"What angers you so?"
Yeon Hojeong studied his father. Moonlight softened the man's usually stern features, lending uncharacteristic gentleness.
The words burned his throat: 'Our main house is targeted.' He yearned to confess everything this instant.
Yet he couldn't.
His father noticed everything despite feigning indifference. He'd investigate the source, the reasons for silence, the validity.
Time was too short. Historical records showed the Ming Clan's attack within a year. Perhaps sooner.
"Just... restlessness."
"Over what?"
"Various matters."
Yeonwi fell silent.
He had words for his son, but seeing him now, they felt unnecessary.
From his robes, Yeonwi produced a manuscript.
"What's this?"
"Take it."
The unmarked cover revealed nothing. Curiosity led Yeon Hojeong to open it - his eyes widened.
"A handwritten manual," Yeonwi explained. "Burn it after mastery."
"Why give me this...?"
"I considered what you lack after observing your martial arts."
The admission felt surreal from his normally detached father.
"Your style focuses on single-strike kills without follow-throughs. Your physique fuels these explosive attacks, though refinement remains possible."
"......"
"Yet see - your breathing collapsed earlier. Your techniques drain stamina brutally."
"True."
"You'll improve, but the interim poses problems. I considered evasive footwork, but your temperament rejects retreat."
Accurate assessment.
Yeon Hojeong could flee, hide, evade when necessary. But absent absolute need, he'd rather overwhelm foes.
A battlefield style - kill before being killed. No surrender.
"Hence this preparation."
Yeon Hojeong stared at the three characters on the first page:
Counter-Dragon Palm.
Their spar fortnight ago flashed through his mind - this counter-focused technique was among the Yeon Clan's core arts, revealing its true worth during retaliations.
"The martial world is cruel. Foes won't show mercy. Even top masters can fall to third-rate blades."
Yeon Hojeong's eyes narrowed.
"You knew?"
Yeonwi shook his head.
"Not until now."
"......"
"I debated the timing. Late, but with your talent, you'll master it swiftly."
The manual felt heavy in Yeon Hojeong's grip.
In truth, his father's concern was misplaced - Yeon Hojeong possessed the Four Divine Arts. While the Black Turtle handled defense and White Tiger relentless assault, the Azure Dragon specialized in evasion and counterattacks.
Though less used than others, the Azure Dragon's techniques perfectly complemented his extreme style.
Yet no divine art could outweigh this gift's sentimental value.
"My gratitude."
Yeonwi rose.
"When do you depart?"
The plan was set.
Remaining at the estate would hinder defense against the Ming Clan's invasion. Direct engagement after reconnaissance aligned with Yeon Hojeong's battle philosophy.
"Tomorrow, barring complications."
"Tomorrow... So soon."
Yeonwi closed his eyes.
His son couldn't fathom the thoughts behind that gesture.
After moments, Yeonwi commanded:
"Follow."
To Yeon Hojeong's surprise, his father led him beyond the estate walls.
The night market lay silent past midnight, only a few taverns still lit. They traversed backstreets until reaching a smithy distant from the river.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Hammers rang despite the late hour. Heat radiated intensely even five blocks away.
"Master Pyeon. It's Yeonwi."
Ting!
The hammering ceased.
An elderly man emerged - short but barrel-chested, bare torso gleaming in winter air, white beard contrasting against forge-sooted skin.
"You've come."
The deep voice carried unexpected calmness from such fierce features.
"Apologies for the late visit."
"None needed. And the youth?"
"My eldest."
Yeonwi gestured. "Pay respects. This is Divine Artisan Pyeon Il-gang."
Yeon Hojeong bowed formally. "Yeon Hojeong. An honor."
The smith's spring-warm smile seemed incongruous with his lifetime of fire and steel.
"No mistaking those eyes. Like seeing your younger self - though this one's sharper. If you were a treasured blade, he's a divine sword. Razor-edged."
A ghost of a smile touched Yeonwi's lips. Pyeon stared - he'd never witnessed even this much expression from the clan lord.
"Age mellows even you, it seems."
"Apparently."
Pyeon scrutinized Yeon Hojeong.
"Curious. Same eyes, different aura. Your blood, yet no tranquility."
"......"
"Not a sword... An axe, perhaps?"
Yeon Hojeong's eyes flashed.
Pyeon wasn't a martial artist - his internal energy mere health maintenance. Yet he'd identified Yeon Hojeong's primary weapon at a glance.
'Remarkable.'
True masters perceive essence beyond their craft. A smith's eye recognized warrior's spirit.
"The item commissioned fortnight ago?"
"Yes."
"Ho! Surprises abound tonight. Denying your heir a sword?"
Yeonwi shook his head.
"Is it ready?"
"Days ago. Merely retouched an existing piece."
"Produce it."
Moments later, Pyeon returned bearing a weapon.
Yeon Hojeong's eyes widened.
"Heavy burden," Pyeon grunted. "Swinging this requires monstrous strength. Impressive cultivation for your age."
Thoom!
The impact reverberated through earth.
A battle-axe - six-foot haft ending in a blade large as a man's torso. Nearly identical to Yeon Hojeong's previous weapon in size and form.
"Grip it."
Yeon Hojeong hefted the haft trance-like.
The weight traveled through his arms - massive, yet perfectly balanced.
'Heavy... but right.'
The handle molded to his palm. Incomparable.
"Remember," Yeonwi cautioned, "Heavy weapons reflect their wielder's nature. Reserve this for crucial moments."
To Pyeon: "Our thanks for the labor."
"Labor? Had I known it was a son's gift, I'd have polished it thrice more."
Yeon Hojeong's trembling gaze met his father's.
Yeonwi turned.
"Come."
As they departed, Yeon Hojeong bowed deeply to the smith.
Pyeon called after:
"Sturdy enough to outlive us all. Use it well."
